


Learning Curves

by the_ragnarok



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Collection: Purimgifts Day 1, F/F, Femslash February
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-19
Updated: 2013-02-19
Packaged: 2017-11-29 21:09:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/691467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_ragnarok/pseuds/the_ragnarok
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The problem with being the smartest kid in highschool is that you never learn how to study.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Learning Curves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [verity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/verity/gifts).



> One note about the pics - I'm genuinely terrible at anything graphic, so please consider the photoshop horror on top as intended to make you laugh. <3

_Proposition 3.1: Let a _random variable_ be defined as the sum of fuchsia chrysanthemum_ \--

No, that can't be right. Lydia shuts her eyes tight and shakes her head, glaring down at the blurry printed page. Serves her right for counting on photocopied lecture notes rather than writing her own, but the lecturer drones on and _on_ , repeating every simple concept three times at least for the benefit of her classmates. It was skip or commit murder, as simple as that.

Of course, those self-same obvious concepts are now evading Lydia's grasp, but that might have something to do with her sleeping a total of six hours in the last three days. Which is also probably why it takes her a moment to see someone standing behind her.

"Hello," she says, automatic plastic smile crawling onto her face as she turns around, "can I help-- oh."

The notable thing about Laura Hale – beyond her uncanny ability to turn up _right behind you_ like a genie, generally right after someone complained about the difficulty of homework she assigned – is that she's the least academic-looking TA Lydia has ever met. Nobody else in the math department wears leather pants to work. 

To be fair, nobody in the math department but Laura can _make_ leather pants work. She also assigns homework that genuinely require thought. This and the image of Laura's long, slim fingers drawing graphs on a whiteboard may have helped Lydia through the less encouraging parts of this degree.

Laura slides into the seat next to Lydia. "You know the library is closed, right?"

"I have permission to stay late," Lydia says primly. "I do work here." Lydia's parents weren't happy about that, but that was true about many things, starting with her choice of degree. Lydia wasn't going to let something as pointless as opening hours limit her access to library books, and being an employee meant you got your own key. “What's your excuse?”

“Lecturer found a mistake at the last minute, so who's going out to photocopy two hundred question sheets?” Laura hefts an impressive pile of papers. “Yours truly. Which is a pain, since it's _two in the morning_."

Lydia flips her hair, sadly aware of how badly it needs to be washed. "Is it? I haven't noticed."

"Okay, that's it. C'mon." Laura's up, pulling Lydia by the arm. Lydia huffs but follows. 

The campus is dead quiet this time of night, nothing but the chirping of insects and the gurgle of the small man-made stream flowing through the grass in front of the student center. “I like it here at night. Reminds me of back home,” Laura says, much to Lydia's annoyance. Their hometown is one thing over which Lydia does not want to bond with Laura. “Which building are you in, again?”

"I don't think I have to tell you that," Lydia says, acid-sweet. She wrenches her arm out of Laura's hold. "As a matter of fact, I have things I need to do. There's a test tomorrow, you know."

Laura puts her hands on her hips and gives Lydia a look like a purified laser of disapproval. Lydia pointedly examines her fingernails rather than Laura's expression. "You should sleep," Laura says.

"I'm not your kid brother," Lydia says, low and fierce. "Don't boss me around."

Laura's smile is crooked, and Lydia's eyes snap to those lips, chapped and perfectly shaped. "Trust me, Lydia, I don't think of you as my _sibling_."

Of course trying to bash heads with Laura would be futile. Lydia turns away, chafing her arms against the cold. They overheat the library, and she wasn't expecting to stay quite this late. “It doesn't matter,” she says, trying to sound light-hearted. “I'm too pretty to major in math anyway.”

Laura pulls back like somebody punched her. “Who the fuck told you that?” There's genuine shock in her voice. She turns to face Lydia, warm, strong hands settling on Lydia's shoulders. “Look, Lydia, your study habits are shit and you think you're better than everyone, and you know what? _It's true._ It's just that you're not in high school anymore, and you need to face that.”

Rising to her tiptoes, even in high heels, Lydia can just put her mouth against Laura's. No use in listening further; Lydia knows where that conversation leads. Laura's lips are chapped and mobile and part for Lydia easily.

Laura's gaze is heavy when she moves back, which Lydia expected. Thoughtful, which she didn't. Her hands still haven't left Lydia's shoulders. She gives them a little shake. "You've never failed at anything in your life," Laura says. Her voice is low but _strong_ , laughing, holding such unshakable conviction that you could build a house on it. "You're not gonna start now. Know why?"

It's tempting, in the dark, to turn her face into Laura's warm shoulder. "Why?" Lydia says, playing along.

"Because then I won't be in a position of authority over you, meaning I can do this." Her fingers rest on Lydia's jaw. This time Laura is the one to bend for their lips to touch, just for one brief moment.

Lydia's fingers tangle in Laura's sturdy leather jacket. "I'm in the Gilman dorms," Lydia says, curiously short of breath.

Laura pulls away, but her hand closes around Lydia's, walking her back to her room. She lingers at the door, watching Lydia sweep the clothes off her bed. “Sleep well,” Laura says.

"I do everything well,” Lydia says with a haughty tilt of her chin, and Laura grins at her.

"That's my girl.”


End file.
